You could be an old black and white in a time of technicolour.
You could say words I’ve heard a thousand times before.
But even in your fiction, it is my own truth I rediscover.
What magic is it that makes me long for an encore?

It must be the magic that throws the wool over my eyes
As I come face to face with your cheesiness and tropes.
And like the too-trusting lover, I buy into your lies
Because how could I not, without dashing my hopes?

When you come alive through each pixel, each frame,
Outstretching the hand of your story to wrap around mine,
I forget who I’m s’posed to be as I wear a different name.
Why does this escapism make me feel like I’m on cloud nine?

But sometimes you pull me out the clouds and show me the ground,
From which red roses grow, watered with lovers’ tears.
And so, I learn that death, like love, equally comes around.
Oh, Romance Movies, can you teach me to dance with my fears?